


Only the Best

by asocialconstruct



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain and Keeler, set somewhere around pg 3:55 of the comic, but don't think about the timeline too hard.  Angst, nostalgia, porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only the Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoiraKai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoiraKai/gifts).



> HAPPY BDAY NK. I was sort of struggling with what exactly to write for this until HM mentioned in a livestream that she'd thought about including "maybe Cain + Abel having sex in their flight suits at one point.. and after coming in him, Cain like, zips him back up." All of my good ideas are stolen from other people, so this is a little more stolen than others.

Abel looked as good as ever, better even, hair a little longer, scar faded, looking prim and proper since his promotion to officer.  Cain watched him across the mess most days, watched his new Abel flutter and blush as Cain’s old Abel gave them a glance across the hanger, his own flight suit going tight thinking about all the beautiful blonds he’d fucked in the Reliant.  Abel had always looked good in uniform, dress whites or fatigues or his flight suit, skimming over his tight little ass and practically begging for it with the way Abel glanced over his shoulder at anybody likely to give him a good fuck.

Cain followed him, watched him, tracked Abel despite himself, because his first Abel had always been his best Abel, despite what Bering said, despite the fact that this third Abel was supposed to be the last one, the best one, the perfect fit for the mission.  Cain’s first Abel had been perfect in every way except for the mission, so the first Abel had been reassigned, promoted, but now he was back and an officer to boot.

Going on three weeks of dancing around each other, Cain almost caught him alone after a briefing, but Abel’s new fighter got in the way, one cold look cutting them off, hard and dark and cold as Abel was slippery and wanting.

Abel’s new fighter was an asshole.  

Cain caught Abel, or Abel caught Cain, as the sirens were going off for incoming bugs, the sound ricocheting off metal walls as one of them pressed the other against the cold metal wall of the locker, the heady, clanging sound of one last chance, of one last time before who the fuck knew what, before everybody you knew coming back burned or dead or wishing they were dead, the sound that was the shaking, adrenaline fueled moment between every other day’s fucking boring routine and the intoxication of actually _doing_ something, of feeling alive for once, even if that something got you killed at the end.

Abel was as electric as ever, back rigid as Cain pushed him into a corridor off the hanger bay, white flight suit taught with every line and ridge of muscle beneath it, soft skin hidden below the hard outer shell, just like Abel had always wanted.  Cain leaned in to kiss him, more a bite than a kiss, but when had it ever been anything else.

“Don’t you _fucking_ dare,” Abel spat, slapping him across the face, shoving hard against the rigid breastplate of Cain’s own black flight suit.  The slap stung, as sharp and hot as sex with Abel always had been, and Cain snarled and pinned the little blond’s wrist against the wall, slamming him back against the metal as Abel arced towards him to kiss.

“You got a dirty mouth since you been gone, princess, maybe I ought to teach you a lesson,” Cain murmured, grazing his teeth along Abel’s warm lips, gratified when Abel snapped back.  He ground his knee between Abel’s thighs, pushing the little blond’s legs wide, Abel snarling and vicious even with his cock straining hard against his white flight suit, even with Cain’s hard cock hot and heavy and pressed to Abel’s thigh already.

“You put a mark on me and my new fighter will know,” Abel breathed, looking torn between slapping him again and dropping to his knees.  “He won’t like it.”

“Tch.  Then I’ll be gentle, princess,” Cain sneered, twisting Abel against the metal and slamming him face first against the wall.  Abel snarled and twisted against him but didn’t really fight it, always too slutty for his own good, needing it rougher than he’d ever want to ask for, and Cain laughed, low in his throat, for everything he’d ever missed about Abel, his first Abel, his best Abel.  

Cain unzipped Abel’s white flight suit, slow and gentle, such a convenient white lie of virginity and purity on the outside.  He savored the slow peeling back of Abel’s flight suit, the hard white shell slowly showing the muscles and skin of Abel’s back by inches, going pink with want and wantonness, as slow and gentle as their first time, as slow and gentle as all their other times had never been.  

As slow and gentle as Cain’s first time, anyway, Abel hot and begging for it before their first flight was done even though Cain had been a twenty-year-old-fuck-up who’d never fucked anyone at all, Abel twenty-two and fucked by everyone he ever wanted to be fucked by, shoving Cain on his back their first night together and topping hard from the bottom.  Abel was gorgeous and he knew it, long hair, tight ass and big eyes just begging for it from practically anyone but only getting it from _Sacha_ , from _Cain_ , after they’d been paired together, because Cain was the best and Abel, _Hector_ , only fucked the best.

“It’s _Keeler_ now, or lieutenant to _you_ , _Sacha_ ,” Abel snarled against the wall, shuddering and melting under Cain’s hands by turns, beautiful and pliant and made of razor blades.  

Cain caught his braid and yanked his head back, making Keeler’s breath hitch and Cain’s with it, at the beautiful chocked moan he made.  “Whatever the fuck you want, sweetheart, so long as you take a cock up the ass as good as you used to,” Cain hissed, shutting Keeler up by making him suck a couple of Cain’s fingers, fumbling with his other hand to undo his own flight suit, the back of his hand brushing the hot, firm curve of Keeler’s ass as he did.  Cain was so fucking hard, even after fucking his current Abel just that morning, so hard thinking about fucking the both of them together, his current Abel and his third Abel, one the blushing, demanding virgin and the other the pushy, demanding slattern, both of them begging to get fucked and writhing against each other as Cain fucked them both.

Keeler moaned around his fingers, curling his tongue against them, knowing exactly what was coming after how many times they’d done this, sucking as well as he’d always sucked cock, better than any of Cain’s other Abels.  He shuddered without meaning to when Keeler glanced back over his shoulder, meeting Cain’s eyes as he bit down, teeth precise and intense through the black of Cain’s gloves, gloves meant to keep out shrapnel and the vacuum and never enough to keep Keeler out, not with that look.

Cain took his fingers away then, pressed them into Keeler, watched him shudder and press back, fingers curled against the wall and mouth finally gone slack in a little o of want and longing.  

He watched Keeler, watched his mouth, watched Keeler arch his back and curl his gloved fingers against the wall as Cain fucked him with gloved fingers, slick and insistent as Cain reached around to palm Keeler’s cock through the hard surface of his flight suit.  Keeler was tight as he’d ever been, tight as a virgin after everything they’d done and everyone else Keeler had fucked before and since, tight enough that Cain could pretend like this was their first time all over again, his first time, with some desperate, beautiful purebred navigator who begged for it all night long.

But they didn’t have all night, wouldn’t ever have all night ever again, not with this Abel and maybe not with any Abel ever, if they sirens were as bad as they sounded, so Cain steadied his cock and pushed into Keeler in one smooth motion, Keeler’s gloved fingers sharp on his thigh even through his own flight suit as Cain fucked him.

“Hurry up,” Keeler hissed, glancing behind them, bracing himself against the wall, trying to spread his legs wider even as he tried to make Cain fuck him faster.  “We have to launch, Encke’ll be looking for me soon.”

Cain laughed, all he could do with his hand on Keeler’s hard cock through his flight suit, cock buried in his tight ass and breathless with the effort of staying standing with how badly he wanted to just pound Keeler against the wall.  He’d be a dead man twice over if Encke caught them fucking, dead once for fucking another fighter’s navigator and dead again for wasting time when they were scrambling for incoming, but it was hard to care when they could as well be dead in another hour, shot out of the sky like Essex in a fast burst of photons and shrapnel, and what was one more quick fuck compared to that.

Keeler came with a strangled gasp, trying to keep it quiet as Cain yanked the collar of his flight suit further down and his hair back, to get at Keeler’s neck better and bite at that soft juncture of hard shoulder and soft veins, to put his mark on Keeler, like when they could have been anything together instead of what they were.  Keeler shuddered against him, coming hard into Cain’s hand, or would have if not for the flight suit, and Cain could feel it through the hard white material, hot as Keeler’s cock throbbed steady and insistent against the unforgiving suit.

It pushed Cain over to come with him, Keeler tight and fluttering around him, so intensely _Cain’s_ for the moment that he couldn’t help but be dragged with, even if this Abel wasn’t his any more, even if he had another Abel waiting and ready for him, for anything, and for just a moment as he leaned his head against Keeler’s bared shoulder, Cain didn’t regret any of it, when it got so complicated, because this Abel was perfect, no matter what Bering said.  Didn’t matter so long as Cain was coming deep in him, hot and slick and perfect, all soft skin for all that he was sharp as razor blades on the inside and hard official flight suit on the outside.

They took heavy breaths against the wall for a moment before Cain pulled away, zipping himself up, thinking better of the whole mess, of being caught here with the sirens blaring, but not thinking so much better of it that he didn’t keep Keeler pinned there, where Cain could lean against him and press his nose to Keeler’s hair one more time.

“I missed you,” Abel breathed, in the moment before he remembered he was supposed to be Keeler instead of Abel, the thought of it visibly passing over his face.

Cain twisted one gloved hand in Keeler’s hair and pulled him back to kiss deep, for all the time before Abel had been Keeler, when they’d just been Cain and Abel, when they could have been anything together and could have done anything, before Cain really realized what Bering was asking of him.  

Keeler turned and tried to press against him, almost hard again and Cain had to yank him back, hand fisted in his gorgeous long hair, breaking the kiss and making Keeler pull away, glaring somewhere between longing and ready to spit nails.  “I know, princess,” Cain murmured, and kissed him again.

Slapped his ass and zipped Abel’s flight suit up in one motion, striding away and leaving Keeler there with a sour look on his face.  Walked out into the hanger to find his current Abel, his new princess, _Ethan_ fussing the pre-flight checks, blushing first at the sight of him and then again at the sight of Keeler, prim and proper and zipped up tight and official in his white flight suit, no one the wiser that he’d just been fucked hard against the wall, not Ethan, not Encke, no one but Cain, because Abel only fucked the best, and Cain was the best.

Cain adjusted himself, a little slick in his flight suit and relishing the thought of Keeler, prim and cold and official, climbing up to fly for someone else, hot and slick from coming hard under Cain’s hands, from coming with Cain inside him, zipped back up to think about that as they launched.  Either one last good fuck before one or both of them were shot down in a sparkling blast of photons and shrapnel, or something to try with this new Abel when they made it back, the new one who blushed instead of snarled.  

Even if Cain’s cock was hard before they even cleared the hanger, thinking about his first Abel, blushing as he climbed into his new ship with his new fighter, slick and tender from being fucked just a moment ago.


End file.
